


Someone Like Me

by TheLastMelinian



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Original Percival Graves, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Graves is the product of his own suffering, Graves suffers from his thoughts, Light Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Newt Scamander, Slightly - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Werewolves, fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme, it takes awhile, this is a lot longer than I had originally planned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8945401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastMelinian/pseuds/TheLastMelinian
Summary: Another response to the prompt on the kinkmeme at:http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/459.html?thread=836555#cmt836555There were many things that Newt Scamander expected and didn’t expect in his rather short life. Among these expected things, he knew, were that magical creatures were predictable. Unlike people, they were easily read and therefore easier to empathise with. He never expected to end up as one though. He certainly expected it less that he would find someone just like him.





	1. Percival Graves

* * *

 

 

There were many things that Newt Scamander expected and didn’t expect in his rather short life. Among these expected things, he knew, were that magical creatures were predictable. Unlike people, they were easily read and therefore easier to empathise with. He never expected to end up as one though. He certainly expected it less that he would find someone just like him.

 

Despite the difficulties of turning, it never really infringed much on his life. Except that it was now a lot easier – almost annoyingly so – to smell someone over the length of a quidditch pitch away. It made it very difficult not to be distracted by the distress of other omegas or the overwhelming stench of many alphas. It was, however, this ability that he was able to track down the original Percival Graves, and inadvertently someone of his own kind.

 

Newt looked at the almost feral man before him and just knew. He had found one of his own, someone like him, and that gave him a sense of comfort he hadn’t realised he needed. As wonderful as it was to fulfil the unspoken need to protect and nurture through his creatures, his found family, there were times when he’d lie awake with an aching longing to have someone who understood what it was like.

 

Keeping his eyes on the defensive alpha before him, Newt whispered a request to Tina to send for a healer. The alpha was reluctant to leave him but assured her that he would be fine, the less people the better. The less witnesses, the less likely either of them would be discovered. The moment she disapparated, Newt made himself as small and none threatening as possible. Trying as hard as he could to be understood, because even if Percival Graves lived his life as a man, in this moment he was nothing more than a cornered animal.

 

* * *

 

The alpha let out a low rumbling growl in warning as this new face approached him, their form curled inward and their head bowed submissively. The growling died off into a pained whine once he caught the scent of an omega. An omega who was trying to approach him, to comfort, to heal. An omega who was just like him. He stared intensely, warily, at the male – the wolf supplies – before him. He remains tense, ready to strike, to kill. Regardless of their dynamic. Regardless of the fact that this man is a wolf, just like him.

 

The fear ladled thoughts calm from a painful staccato to a low hum in his skull as he observes the male crouched in front of him. Observing, releasing a calming scent, and inching ever closer. He’s so distracted by the calming smell of pine, spice, the subtle smell of an unknown flower, by the prettiness of this omega, that he hadn’t realised he’s being embraced in a loose hold.  A hug, the decidedly more human part of him supplies weakly.

 

He remains rigidly still, teeth bared and ready to bite the clothed shoulder in case of one misstep. The time and silence reign for minutes, weeks, years… He isn’t quite so sure anymore. He is, however, sure enough that the danger has mostly passed and relaxes his weary body. He buries his face in the crook of the male’s neck and breathes in. He’s subconsciously moved his arms to wrap around the slender body holding him, keeping the warmth firmly in place. He remains as he is, if only to breathe in that calming scent for as long as he can.

 

He barely registers the whispery ghost of words in his ear. Phrases of ‘you’re alright’, ‘I’ve got you, mister Graves.’ Graves? Is that his name? A flash of a memory, yes, that’s right. Percival Graves. The human part of him is becoming more coherent, but he’s feeling rather drunk off the scent and the gentle touch he’s not experienced in a long time. He mumbled distractedly, ‘are you an angel?’ The man laughed softly, he could feel them get a little warmer around the neck. Graves doesn’t really register much after that. He ends up lulling into a rather comfortable state. Dozing, drifting into the place between a lazy doze and deep sleep. Despite the slight anxiety that he feels from being plunged into this sleepy darkness once again, he feels content.

 


	2. Growing Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves finds himself dealing with some thoughts and feelings he's not quite prepared to deal with head on just yet. It doesn't help that just can't let go of the calming scent of pine tress in the rain, warm spices, and this subtle flowery smell.

* * *

 

The next time Graves wakes he’s assaulted by a very white, and very bright ceiling. Bright enough to hurt. He clenches his eyes shut to block the stabbing pain being wrought down upon his poor retinas. His sluggish senses start working again and the next thing that assaults his weary body is the very sterile smell. He’s deduced in his semi-wakefulness that he’s either in a hospital, or he’s died and this is just a pretty shit heaven. He’s not really sure which he’d prefer at the moment. He’s definitely craving a cold glass of water; his throat feels as dry as the deserts of Arizona and his tongue rubs like sandpaper against the bone-dry surface of the roof of his mouth. Overall, Graves just really wants for things to stop hurting.

 

He feels disorientated but the pain keeps him from succumbing to the arms of sleep. He keeps his eyes shut and takes in shaky breaths. Graves is very vaguely aware of muffled voices as his hearing isn’t all there just yet. He’s also more aware of the different scents. There’s one that he focuses on instantly and time seems to stand still. Suddenly, all he can smell and all he can focus on is that scent. Pine forests, spice, he’s not sure which, a subtle flowery smell. It’s intoxicating, it’s comforting, he drifts off without even realising.

 

For the next few days Graves drifts in and out of consciousness. He tries to hide the slight hurt he feels realising that nobody had noticed? Not an easy thing to hide when all you have are your thoughts and time. Not even Picquery, whom he’s known since his early years at Ilvermorny, noticed the imposter. He’s sure she knows that he harbours some sort of resentment, it’s hard not to. How is it an unknown, a foreign, wizard realised that he was replaced but not his colleagues, not the person he considers his closest friend and confidant. He likes to think himself a tactful person, but at this moment of time he can’t stop himself from releasing some of the building anger that’s been eating away at him. She takes it in stride and in a way, it helps them repair some of the damage to their friendship. Not by much, but it’s a start.

 

He sees Tina Goldstein next. Graves wants to feel hurt that she didn’t notice to. He’s always considered her to be a promising auror and he wants to feel disappointed. And he is, until he hears about her demotion to the wand permits office. He is definitely sure that he didn’t put her there, even more sure that he would never punish her for defending a child who so obviously needed someone on their side. Even if she did violate the statue of secrecy.

 

He comes to the conclusion that Grindlewald must’ve suspected that she’d become suspicious, that she’d become a threat to his plans. He used her split-second decision against her, and in the end Credance Barebone suffered for his personal failings. Suffered because he failed at his job. He pushes that beast deep inside of himself, not quite ready to deal with that particular baggage just yet. They talk and she decides admit to him that she’s ashamed. Ashamed that she didn’t notice even with her demotion. Ashamed that she let her feelings of betrayal and hurt cloud her ability to notice something was wrong. Graves in turn tells her to forget, not to let it eat her up too much. He sure wishes he could take his own advice.

 

Graves spends a total of two weeks in the hospital, two weeks of growing increasingly obsessed with the scent of an unknown person, the smell of forests and warmth and the feeling that he’s met another one like him. He becomes increasingly agitated, not just because he can’t put a face or name to the scent, but he also feels the wolf inside of him begin to stir. He knows the night of the full moon is fast approaching and he cannot be here when he turns. He knows he can’t stay in this room he’s not going to put anyone in danger, he’s not going to be responsible for more lives being lost through his carelessness. In his mind, it’s the least he can do for the obscurial boy he failed so miserably.

 

He’s also not prepared to be exposed just yet either, he’s just gained his freedom and he’d die before relinquishing it again. There’s a missing piece he wants to find, someone he needs to meet, the person who smells like his own personal slice of heaven. He causes such a big fuss that the healers have no choice but to release him. They honestly don’t have much of a reason to keep him bed bound anymore, his physical wounds have healed faster than they expected and he seems to be functioning well enough.

 

* * *

 

He resumes work a week after he works through his first full moon post mandatory bedrest. He looks a lot worse for wear, even more so than when he was in the hospital, he gets a lot of varied stares but no one comments. Everyone assumes pain and nightmares make it hard to get a decent night’s sleep. They’re not wrong, but they’re not totally right either.

 

His first order of business is to change up the feel of his office, he wants no memory of how it was before his capture, it’s too tainted and it just feels all wrong. He shuffles things around until he’s satisfied. His next order of business is the paperwork, he’s goes through _every. Single. Thing._ Especially every case that was handled by Grindlewald. He works quickly and efficiently, following up with things and people he needs to follow up with. He redoes everything in triplicate and sends it off to where it need to be. He manages to get most of the old files done in record time before he moves onto the growing pile of current cases.

 

He works himself to the bone, and it he looks even worse than when he first arrived back at MACUSA, no one would have believed it possible if everyone in the department weren’t seeing it themselves. Picquery enforces a week of mandatory leave in order for him to recuperate, he takes it grudgingly, knowing it’d be worse if he refused. He leaves Tina in charge while he’s away. If he’s going on a semi-forced vacation he might as well test Goldstein’s ability to handle more responsibility. He does, afterall, see a lot of promise in her.

 

He spends the week wandering New York, subconsciously seeking that scent again. He can’t stop thinking about it and Graves is a little alarmed with this new obsession. He finds himself spending most of his week in Central Park just sitting on park benches and watching the leaves change colours. It reminds him a little of the scent he longs for. He doesn’t have a name or a face and the smell is fading from his mind. He can’t help but feel sorrowful at that.

 

He returns to MACUSA after the week is done, admittedly more refreshed, more focused, but still enraptured by that mysterious fading scent. He gets to his office to relieve Tina of her duties and freezes as he opens the door. ‘Goldstein, what is that smell?’

Tina looks a little startled at the question, ‘Sir?’

Graves can’t help the surge of aggressiveness that overcomes him, ‘yes, Goldstein, that smell, you smell like an omega,’ he isn’t sure how to refer to that scent but he's sure of the owner’s dynamic, that much he’s certain of.

 

Tina, ever quick on the uptake, instantly knows what he’s referring to and matches his aggression with her own protectiveness, ‘that would be the scent of one of my pack members,’ she responds evenly, ‘Newt Scamander, he’s the one that found you,’ Graves relaxes ever so slightly, so the other alpha isn’t the omega – Newt’s – mate.

 

Her eyes narrow slightly, curiosity tinged with wariness, she feels the need to speak these words to her boss, ‘with all due respect sir, you may be my superior, but you need to think very carefully about your next actions, Newt is a member of my pack, an important part of my family, I won’t hesitate to fight you if you hurt him,’ he meets her uncharacteristically steely gaze and understands.

 

He’s not sure what he wants from this Newt Scamander but he knows he’s no longer content with just longing from afar for an unknown person, ‘I don’t plan to hurt him Goldstein, but I would like to meet him eventually,’ she looks placated and gives him a quick upturn of her lips, ‘fine, he’ll be back in New York in a few weeks,’ he wants to tear his hair out in frustration but also sing with relief. Finally, he’ll be able to put a face to the name and scent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are summaries? I cannot summarise a plethora of feelings. *table flips*


	3. Turmoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves finally meets the owner of the scent that has been plaguing his thoughts. Unfortunately, his thoughts are plagued by his own personal demons and he surmises, maybe if he had taken the time to deal with some of them their meeting would have been a lot less awkward than it needed to be.

* * *

 

Graves experienced two full moons before he catches a whiff of that glorious scent again. He disregards the fact that he has places to be and things to do. Disregards the fact that he should probably meet Scamander through his pack alpha.

 

Newt Scamander.

 

He’s recited that name over and over inside of his mind just to make sure he’d never forget it. Graves lies to himself, saying that he hasn’t got some ulterior motive, that he’s only obsessed harder over this because he owes the man a lot.

 

He throws caution to the wind and just follows his nose through the busy streets of New York like a man possessed. He has never been more thankful for his cursed condition than he is now.

 

He feels another moon coming, the other one like him must feel it to. He realises he must look crazy, just discreetly sniffing alarmed passer-by’s that even have a trace of that smell, that he’s bothering people by going against the flow of the crowd.

 

He doesn’t care all that much, he’s determined to meet the owner of that scent, to meet this Newt Scamander face to face and –

 

… And what?

 

He pauses abruptly and some people give him a dirty look. He ponders this for a beat before he shakes his head and continues his tracking. Thank him of course, don’t be foolish Percival. He doesn’t even spare the thought that it may be something else. He doesn’t want to dwell too long on the feelings that he’s all too aware are from the more feral, animalistic, part of himself.

 

Graves follows until the scent abruptly stops in one place. He’s worried they’ve apparated but then notices that the scent is concentrated but hidden amongst the other smells coming from the establishment next to him; ‘Kowalski’s’ he reads. He can smell a myriad of things, pleasant things he’ll admit, coming from the no-maj bakery.

 

He’s heard of this place from the Goldstein sisters in passing. Often in hushed, angry, whispers. Graves is sure it has something to do with the man who runs the establishment, probably about the younger Goldstein’s secret budding relationship with the baker.

 

He doesn’t care too much, he’s in no place to make any sort of judgements about someone else’s relationships. Not when he himself is technically an illegal beast. He is, afterall, an unregistered werewolf. He has no right to expose someone else’s secrets when he isn’t willing to reveal his own. So, he stays silent out of principal.

 

Graves makes his way inside and is almost immediately greeted from the counter by the baker himself, ‘Hey, welcome to Kowalski’s!’

 

The man, he observes, is friendly. At least, he doesn’t seem like the type to throw his lot in with second Salemers. Especially not from the bits and pieces he’s caught from Queenie and Tina’s arguments. If Kowalski hadn’t been obliviated before he was rescued, he would have liked to thank him for his help with subduing the escaped creatures and the protection of the magical world. Graves thinks it would have been invaluable to have one no-maj exception to the rule, much to the chagrin of the law-abiding voice inside of him.

 

He’s about to closely observe the interesting and familiar pastry creations and to take in the homey atmosphere before he pinpoints the scent he followed. His head snaps towards where it’s strongest, startling a man and a few other loiterers in the process.

 

He ignores the other patrons and stares intently at the man who had been trying to creep around him. Out of habit, Graves sizes up the man. Regardless of dynamic, a potential threat is still a potential threat. It’s a habit that has saved him on more than one occasion and he doesn’t see a reason to stop, even if it’s making his rescuer somewhat uncomfortable.

 

The man’s coat, a comforting blue, and probably the only thing that fits right on him. His shirt cuffs barely creep from the edge of the coats sleeves and his trousers stop just above the ankles of his well-worn boots. The scarf around his neck appears a well-used and well-loved item. Auburn curls are unkempt but fall in an attractive way. He’s tall, would be taller than him, if not for the hunched shoulders and slight inward curl of his back. He eyes the case the man holds before it’s tucked behind his legs as if to shield it from view.

 

When their eyes meet, time seems to stop. For the first time – the first time for him at least – he feels something inside him just slide into place. The man is staring at him, still a little shocked but there’s recognition in his gaze now. There’s a long pause before the averts his eyes, Graves tries not to feel so taken by the light blush that graces freckled cheeks.

 

‘Terribly sorry’, is the soft response he gets. His heart starts making aborted movements in his chest, feels warmth spread through his chest. Graves recalls bits and pieces, fuzzy memories of that voice comforting him. The thoughts are gone the next moment like smoke in the wind.

 

The other is clearly unnerved by the lack of response and attempts to take steps around him whilst giving barely audible good days and well wishes. He steps around him, curling in on himself more.  Graves clenches his jaw, and whips around to take a hold of the other’s wrist.

 

There’s a slight flinch before the hunched form slowly turns to face him. The other man resolutely avoids eye contact.

 

Look at me.

 

Look at me dammit!

 

As if sensing his silent plea, the man looks him in the eye. He almost gets lost in the vivid shade of blue-green flecked with tiny pinpricks of gold. Beautiful, both the human and wolf think. Graves is aware that the situation is somewhat uncomfortable, is aware that his face doesn’t illicit the friendliest of responses.

 

So, he schools his expression into something that’s somewhat approachable, ‘you’re Newt Scamander, aren’t you?’

 

Surprise crosses Newt’s face before he replies, ‘I, uh, yes…’

 

There’s a pause before Newt continues on through nervousness and feeling the need to fill the awkward silence, ‘it’s nice to finally meet you, Mister Graves… well, meet you when you’ve been more conscious and aware,’ the almost rambled statement is followed by an embarrassed flush and a barely-there smile.

 

Graves finds he wants more of it. He doesn’t realise he’s being called for until there’s a slight tug from where he’s still gripping the other man’s wrist, ‘Mister Graves?’

 

He mentally kicks himself, he needs to calm down, he’s literally meeting this man for the first time in a normal setting. He can’t get swept up in the scent or devolve to the wolf’s desires, doesn’t want to become that feral creature he was during his captivity.

 

He composes himself, ‘Percival…’ Newt looks at him a little confused before he elaborates, ‘please just call me Percival, ‘Mister Graves’ reminds me too much of work,’ He doesn’t want or need to say that it painfully reminds him that he lacks any sort of meaningful relationships. Newt seems to understand and thankfully doesn’t pry.

 

Graves continues taking note of the awkward air that seems to be growing the longer they stand in the slowly emptying bakery, ‘I apologise, I’ve been meaning to thank you for some time. I was told of your involvement in the capture of Grindelwald and of my rescue,’ he releases his hold on the slim wrist. There’s no sense in making the other man more uncomfortable than he already appears.

 

Surprise crosses Newt’s face before he responds softly, ‘there really is no need to thank me, I’m just glad that everything turned out fine in the end,’ he breaks eye contact and moves his gaze to somewhere above Graves’ shoulder.

 

‘I feel that I should,’ is the firm response he gives, ‘if it weren’t for you, I would have most definitely been dead,’ there’s another small flinch, but he’s not sure why.

 

There’s another long awkward pause, one that Graves can feel the baker getting rather tense over, before there’s a barely audible reply, ‘I really am glad to see that you’re doing better,’ Newt excuses himself.

 

Graves lets Newt pass him but he isn’t ready to leave things at that. He still has so many questions to ask, answers he still needs, wants. To ask if he, to, is plagued by a wolf, that he’s not crazy. That he isn’t alone in the world. He can’t believe how taken he already is with this man, how alarming it is to feel any sort of affection for a person he just met.

 

The phrase ‘love at first sight’ comes to mind, but that’s ridiculous, there is no such thing as ‘love at first sight’, what he feels is gratitude. Yes, gratitude warped to masquerade as ‘love’ from the wolf’s point of view.

 

The beast howls louder in his mind about mates, the affection being expressed in his mind, that he’s being a fool for letting such a pretty omega escape. He curses, somewhat disgusted with himself. Newt is a person that doesn’t need some damaged alpha’s attentions, from someone who sometimes had trouble distinguishing whether he was more human or more monster.

 

He follows newt’s trail, he’s confused, he has no idea what to feel anymore, there’s too much going on in his mind. He’s frustrated with himself, he’s angry about his failures, he’s frustrated with the creature that tries so hard to dictate his life. He’s tired, oh so tired, of this weight, this burden, and realising that he effectively had no one who truly understood.

 

He manages to catch up to Newt as he slips unnoticed by passerbys into an alleyway, an action that usually is followed by someone about to apparate. He quickly turns into the same alley and calls out, ‘Newt!’

 

The figure freezes and turns to face him. Newt looks almost scared, he supposes it doesn’t help that they are in a dead-end alleyway and that he’s essentially cornered the man. He feels a bit of a pang when he also thinks that it may be the fact the Grindelwald did wear his face for months whilst he did all those terrible things.

 

Newt himself looks very uncomfortable, he’s protectively shielding his case like a mother would her children, he tries not to acknowledge the pleased feeling that he and the wolf share at the thought.

 

Newt is eyeing him warily, curious, willing to listen, but poised to flee if need be. Graves sags, he has no idea how to ask what he wants to ask, he has no idea how to verbalize all these thoughts and questions. The other man seems to shrink in on himself even more.

 

Graves doesn’t like the fear he can see just below the surface, like he’s a monster. He asks the first thing he desperately wants to ask, ‘are you plagued by a wolf?’

 

The other man relaxes minutely before continuing, ‘are you like me?’ He looks a Newt in an almost pleadingly. He has no idea if he got his question across, if Newt understood, he hopes he does, but what if he was wrong? What if he made a mistake? What if he just revealed himself who wasn’t like him?

 

He’s about to apologise and say he’ll never bother him again, when he notices for the first time during this encounter, Newt looks at him with a sad and knowing look, ‘sometimes, yes.’

 

For the first time in a long while, Percival Graves felt relieved in knowing that there was someone who at least understood the weight of one of his most closely guarded secrets.

 

* * *

 

Newt wasn’t expecting to run into Director Graves in the foreseeable future. He assumed the man would dive right back into work, from what Tina told him, he did exactly that. She told him that the Madam President enforced a leave of absence upon him not long after his return because in her words, ‘he looked like death shat a brick.’ He found it hard to imagine President Picquery would say something so crass, but then again, he had no idea as to the nature of their relationship. He decided not to dwell on it.

 

He didn’t expect Graves would be too keen on the idea of spending too much time in his apartment, he would probably be trying to find a place to ease his troubles elsewhere in New York.

 

He was not expecting to run into him in Jacob’s bakery, but there he was, staring intently at him. It was quite frankly unnerving. He wasn’t used to having such intense focus on him. He felt a little fearful, he did not want to be crowded into a corner whilst some man invaded his space. He has never really met Graves before Grindelwald, so he has no idea as to his actual personality. Director of the DMLE or not, he was prepared to fight tooth and nail to protect his case and himself.

 

On the other hand, he can’t deny that the man before him is handsome. There’s a gentle nudge from the back of his mind that implies he would be a perfect mate. He resolutely ignores the wolf in order to focus on the man before him.

 

Their conversation is brief, stilted, and very awkward. What follows is a lengthy pause. He’s feeling flustered, a little hot under the collar. He decides that it would be best to wish Graves a good day and go about the rest of the afternoon.

 

He thinks that’s the end of that, he ducks into an alleyway to apparate to his next destination but is stopped when someone calls his name. He feels himself freeze, he turns to find Graves there. He looks imposing with his back against the light and his face shadowed by the darkness of the alley.

 

He realises too late that the alley he’s ducked into is a dead end, his only other exit being blocked. Newt can’t help but feel a twinge of fear, he thinks of Grindelwald, how he wore Graves’ face and scent, and how it smelt _wrong._ The dark wizard always had the smell of death that clung to him.

 

He remains stiff, protectively shielding his case and ready to apparate, but something stops him. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s curious or if it’s the look on the other man’s face.

 

He looks desperate to say something.  Something important, something that’s been troubling him. He looked pained, almost like a wounded creature and he couldn’t help but feel his heart go out to him.

 

Newt watches the subtle changes in Graves expression before it settles into something like defeat.

 

‘Are you plagued by a wolf?’

 

Newt was never going to seek out Graves about their shared condition, hadn’t planned on it. Except, here was Graves, looking tormented and so… alone? It was enough for him to completely relax.

 

‘Sometimes, yes.’

 

He understood, sees the desperation on the other man’s face, what it’s like to feel different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha, this took a long time to finish, I had some trouble trying to figure out how to end the chapter and ended up writing chapter plans for the next installments. I also tried to draw some images for all the stories I've written so far but I haven't had much time to do much in terms of fics and art. I do need to make sure I'm on top of my IRL responsibilities and sometimes it physically pains me to put my need to be creative on the back burner.


	4. Personal Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inner turmoil of one Percival Graves.

* * *

 

 

They seem to gravitate towards each other after that, never very close, but, never really that far away either. Both content with just knowing you weren’t totally alone. Of being able to say; ‘I know what you are; because I am the same.’

 

On a totally different matter – just as Graves predicted – Tina wasn’t too pleased with him. He’s certain that it has everything to do with Newt. He assumes that’s the case when she narrows her eyes, ever so slightly, every time he’s within arm’s reach of Newton Artemis Fido Scamander. He’s just not really too sure why. But he can hazard a pretty accurate guess as to the reason.

 

It’s mildly annoying – bordering on oppressing – but he understood. He understood completely. Newt is… not the most self-aware. Of course, he’s hyperaware of the wellbeing of his friends and fiercely protective of his creatures. Graves refuses to entertain the thoughts that may lead him down the road that even remotely deviates from the innocent. Especially not if Goldstein has anything to say about it. Or god forbid, Theseus Scamander*. Who would kill a man or two (or an army if he had a chance) to protect his baby brother, in the same way, said baby brother would recklessly throw himself into danger or die just to protect his fantastical case.

 

He’s come to realise that Newt is ironically more observant of the world around him and his case, but that sphere never really includes himself. He seems oblivious to the attention he gathers from others and not all of the stares are innocent. It’s a worrying thought for Graves. He begins to sympathise with Theseus’ hovering and mother-henning.

 

In a way, being friends with the overbearing alpha helped him understand Tina’s looks. It actually almost hit him like the thick gold brick he had to return due to another Niffler incident**… Tina, as Newt’s pack leader, has no idea where Graves stands with the omega; she has no idea if he’s seeking friendship or to court Newt. She, like Theseus, would rain down the fires of hell just to ensure his happiness and safety.

 

He himself has no idea what he wants to come from this. On one hand, he cherishes knowing that he isn’t as alone as he had originally thought. However, Newt’s scent is alluring in a way no others had been and the beast within him constantly howls at him to take what’s his.

 

But Newt isn’t his.

 

It’s foolish to entertain any of the wolf’s desires. They share a condition and are tentative friends at best. Good acquaintances. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

If he even dared to pursue a relationship the affections would be unwelcome. He isn’t the most well-adjusted, and he still suffers night terrors where he wakes up snarling and clawing at an unseen enemy. Nightmares that leave him to regain his senses amongst chaos and destruction. Nightmares that leave him shaking and gasping for air like a drowning man. The possibility of hurting the omega in those instances turns his blood to ice and makes his heart stop cold. If he hurt Newt and he wouldn’t forgive himself. Doesn’t think he’d survive losing the only companion who knew what it felt like to lose themselves everytime the moon shone its brightest.

 

He’d rather die than voice his thoughts; lose one of the few remaining comforts he has left.

 

And so, he stays silent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Graves loathes the fact it took him far too long to make the connection between his long-time friend and with Scamander the younger. Especially, with how much the other alpha talks about Newt.
> 
> ** In his short acquaintance with Newt there have been many, and he’s sure it won’t be the last.
> 
> It's a pretty short chapter, I had planned to put Newt's POV in there but I decided to separate it since it would contradict with the theme and feel of this chapter. I've also been a little preoccupied starting my new (and first) job so it's taken some time just to find the time between work and getting proper sleep.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy the chapter. :D
> 
> EDIT: Chapter titles, man, I just realised it was almost literally the same as the previous one. OTL


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